The day of Alaric's fifth birthday arrived not with a celebration, but a sorrow.
Outside the Silverlane estate, the sky over Valor City was the color of a bruised plum. Thunder rolled across the mana-spires, and the air crackled with the static of an approaching magical front.
Inside the manor, the atmosphere was suffocating. Silas Silverlane stood in the hallway, his boots clicking rhythmically against the marble.
Every few seconds, he adjusted his silk doublet, his hands trembling with a coldness that no hearth could warm.
Silas wasn't just a merchant today, he was a father terrified of his own flesh and blood. Elara sat on table, her eyes red from a night spent praying eternal life that her son would wake up "normal.
" She doesn't want a prodigy. She just wanted a boy she could hold without feeling the world turn cold.
_____________________
While his parents withered under the weight of their fear, Alaric lay perfectly still in the bed of his room .
To the outside world, he was a sleeping child; internally, he was a collapsing.
He was suspended on his a realm that belongs to his consciousness.
Every area and place enveloped by darkness.
The only light came from the fracturing violet chains of the System. In the silence of his mind, those chains—the only things keeping his soul from unraveling his infant body—were screaming with the sound of grinding metal.
The five-year timer had reached its final seconds, and the pressure behind the Seal was no longer a hum; it was a rhythmic, violent thrumming that shook the very foundation of his consciousness.
[Deep Hibernation Ending...]
[99.1%... 99.5%... 99.9%...]
[Aura Suppression Protocol Deactivated.]
The iron door in Alaric's chest did not just open it began to disintegrated into sub
Atomic particles
The sensation was not a gradual waking, but a catastrophic breach. It was like being hit by a tidal wave of molten lava that lead had been chilled to absolute zero.
The Seed of destruction erupted with black liquid that began to spread his veins.
Alaric eyes snapped open
He did not see his room
He saw the leyline of he world. Vibrating fanatic. Terrified energy
The dull and dark red color was gone from his eyes replaced by crystalline crimson that pulsed in time with his racing heart,
Casting long arterial-red shadows against the room walls.
The pain was total. It was a molecular violation. He felt his bones being scraped from the inside, his marrow bubbling as the System remodelled his skeletal structure to act as a conductor for a force that should have turned a normal human into a ash.
His muscles tore and knitted themselves back together in a heartbeat, growing denser, leaner, and more efficient
He tried scream but his throat felt like it was filled with powdered glass and hot needles.
For a moment, the cold, adult logic of Daniel—the man he used to be—was drowned out by the primal, screeching terror of a five-year-old body experiencing a magical seizure.
It's too much, his mind shrieked.
"Damn I'm breaking.
I'm being erased.
He reached out a hand, grasping at the air, and where his fingers brushed the silk sheets, the fabric didn't tear—it simply unraveled into nothingness, the atoms themselves surrendering to his touch.
[ System Reboot Complete ]
[ Name: Alaric Silverlane ]
[ Race: Human]
[ Age: 5 ]
[ Class: Heir of Destruction (EX) ]
[ Warning: Physical Vessel at 92% Integrity Stabilizing... ]
[ Passive skill unlocked: Appraisal ]
[ Active skill unlocked: Destruction aura ]
[ Active skill unlocked: Mana veil ]
[ Active skill unlocked: Erosion ]
As the agonizing heat began to recede into a dull, throbbing ache, Alaric gasped, a faint haze of violet mist escaping his parched lips.
He lay there, trembling, his small chest heaving as he fought to reclaim his breath.
The agony was a reminder, etched into his very cell he was no longer just a human being. He was a destruction for all things. He felt the hunger of the Seed now not a hunger for food but a hunger for existence.
It wanted to pull the world into itself, and it was only through a massive effort of will that Alaric kept his own skin from consuming the bed beneath him.
He was five years old, and he was already experiencing pain like death.
The echoes of the internal damage were still vibrating in Alaric's marrow when the heavy oak door opened. The click of the latch sounded like a thunderclap in the sudden silence of the room.
Alaric? Elara's voice was a fragile thread, warm by hours of weeping.
Alaric heart lunged against his ribs. The crimson glow in his eyes was slowly fading.
A dying ember that refuse to go out.
His skin felt as though it had been strip and burned alive. every nerve ending screaming in protest as the Seed settled into his nervous system.
I have to hide it , if they see me, they will be sad.
With a last effort that brought a surge of nausea, Alaric forced his small, trembling hands beneath the silk sheets. his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment forcing the Seed of destruction to his soul depth
When he opened them he saw Elara was there kneeling by the bed. Silas just stood behind her. His shadow looming long across the floor.
Oh, my boy," Elara whispered. She reached out her hand hovering tentatively before she smoothed the hair back from his sweat-drenched forehead. "You're burning up.
Silas, look at him. He's soaked through with high fever."
Alaric felt her palm warm, soft and terrifyingly human. To his senses her life force felt like a brilliant golden flame. The Seed inside him coiled wanted to devor her
Life.
Silas stepped closer kneel by bed his eyes narrowed in a sharp appraisal.
He wasn't looking for a fever, He was looking for the calamity that resided in him.. He reached down his heavy, ringed hand grasping Alaric's wrist. He wasn't checking a pulse he was checking for his aura leakage.
Alaric felt the pressure of his father's grip. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a comforting gesture of protection.
Now, it felt like an interrogation. Alaric had to exert every ounce of his mana to Mana Veil skill to keep his destructive energy from surging into Silas's arm.
The strain was mmense that a single hot tear escaped the corner of Alaric's eye and rolled down his face.
Thank God, the aura is very weak. Silas said
The Seer said he would be weak, Silas said, his voice a low rumble of redirected fear. He looked at Elara, then back at his son.
He looks weak. Is there... is there any sign of the aura leakage? Silas asked Alaric
"No, Father, I can manage it.
He's just a child, Silas!" Elara snapped, her maternal instinct finally overriding her dread. She pulled Alaric closer, shielding his small body with her own.
He's exhausted. He's spent five years in isolation. Let him rest.
Alaric buried his face in his mother's shoulder. The scent of lavender and expensive soap filled his senses. He wanted to weep.
He wanted to tell her that he was hurting—that his very blood felt like acid. But he knew that if he let go, his facade would shatter.
The bells, Father," Alaric whispered against his mother's neck. "I hear them."
Silas froze. In the distance, the low, mournful tolling of the Church Inquisition can be heard. It was a sound that signaled the end of their privacy.
The Inquisition is at the gates," Silas said, He reached down and pulled the sheets back, forcing Alaric to stand.
"Stand up, Alaric. If you cannot walk, they will think you are possessed. If you cannot speak, they will think you are a husk. You must be perfect. Do you understand? You must be a Silverlane."
Yes, Father, Alaric said in a loud voice.
Good, that's my son. Silas said with
Silas's face hardened into a mask of stone and he left the room to welcome Church.
Alaric swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet hit the cold floor, and for a second, his knees buckled. The world tilted. He saw the "System" message in the corner of his eyes.
[ Warning host is mentally exhausted ]
He stood. He straightened his small tunic, his hands finally ceasing their visible shaking, though the tremors continued deep within his muscles.
He looked up at mirror, his eyes now a dull, muddy maroon the perfect picture of a magically stunted, sickly child.
I am going, Mother," Alaric said..
Elara let out a small, choked sound and turned away to hide her face in her hands. She saw the courage in her son, but she also saw the death of his childhood.
She knew, in that moment, that the boy she had cradled as an infant was gone, replaced by a soldier who was forced to fight a war before he could even write his own name.
Alaric walked toward the door, each step a testament of his willpower. but as he passed his mother, he reached out and squeezed her hand .It was a promise to his mother to not worry.